Dreams
by Shimmers
Summary: After all, a lot of people have said that there’s all ways some bit of truth in every dream we have, even if it doesn’t seem like it.


Author: Shimmers  
Rating: pg/pg13  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Mediator series. I'm not making any money off of this fanfiction.  
Set at the end of Twilight and the beginning of Shadowland. You'll see what I mean.  
Other notes: I might make a series out of this if I can get my e-Books of the series to work again. And if people like the idea enough.

**Dreams**

"The only thing I don't understand," Jesse was saying, his breath warm in my ear, "is why is took him all this time."

I swayed in Jesse's arms, barely registering what he was saying. _Jesse is a mediator,_ was all I could think. _Jesse's a mediator now._

"Your father," Jesse said. "His moving on, I mean. Why now?"

I put me arms up around his neck. What else could I do?

"Do you really not know?" I asked him.

I smiled because I felt as if my heart might burst with joy.

We just danced the rest of the evening, smiling and talking about random things. I closed my eyes and put my head on his chest…

* * *

When I opened my eyes all I could see was white ceiling tiles, you know, like the ones they have at hospitals. I groaned as I tried to sit up. Everything hurt and felt weak, almost like I hadn't used my body for years. I lifted my arm, which was a pasty white for whatever reason, and found a needle attached to a tube that lead to some hospital equipment.

I sucked in a breath and tried again to push myself up with success. The door to my right opened and a nurse came in. When she saw me, she dropped her clipboard with a quite, "Oh my god…" The nurse – Nancy I think her nametag said – ran out of the room, probably to get a doctor, forgetting her clipboard in her haste.

Where was Jesse? Something wasn't right but beside the obvious, I didn't know what.

The door opened again and an aged woman walked in followed by Nancy. She reminded me a little of Father Dom in a way. The doctor, I mean.

"What happened?" My mouth felt really dry and my tongue felt like greasy sandpaper. And my voice cracked slightly, like I hadn't used it in a long while. I turned back to my arm. My skin was so pale and it had a nearly translucent tone to it, like I was dead. I shivered.

The doctor lady pulled up a chair next to me and sat down. Out of the corner of my eye I watched her push up her glasses.

"Miss Simon, I'm Doctor Margaret Norman. You where walking home from a carnival on the 13th of July with a friend of yours –" I cut her off,

"Oh… I kinda remember now. It's still really foggy though…"

"That's understandable. After all, you've been in a coma for a good three years." Once Dr. Norman said that my brain seemed to stop working. Three years. It had only been a year ago that I had moved to California to live with my mom, step-dad, and step-brothers… And since I met Jesse. But what Norman said meant that everything that had happened in Carmel was all in my head.

It wasn't possible. It had all been so _real_. There was no way I could have made it all up. I swallowed down a lump of nerves that seemed to have gathered in my throat. 'What if's bounced around in my head. What if Jesse… No, Jesse wasn't just a figment of my, well, imagination I guess. I swallowed again and glanced at my hands.

Which was real and which was in my head? I wasn't sure and the headache I felt building up behind my eyes wasn't helping in the slightest bit.

* * *

It had been three months since I woke up in that hospitals room. In that time, I began to forget what had happened in my coma induced sleep. I was attending a local high school as a senior in Brooklyn, having completed all the tests to see if I was up to that level, taking extra psychology classes and helping various ghosts when I had the time.

It wasn't until the school year was nearly over that my mom mentioned moving to a small town in California that I started to realize that maybe it wasn't just a dream. After all, a lot of people have said that there's all ways some bit of truth in every dream we have, even if it doesn't seem like it.

So I moved with my mom a crossed the country to live with my step-family and, unknown to everyone else, the ghost of an 18-centory hottie, if the dream I had when I was in coma was anything to go by.

And I really hope it was.


End file.
